My Boyfriend's Junior Accused Me of Plagiarism, I Sent Her to Jail

After putting college on hold and opting for a chill year, I dropped out of the National Architecture Design Contest.

My boyfriend didn't bat an eye, but his crush, a freshman cutie, was on my case non-stop, demanding to know why I threw in the towel.

Meanwhile, I was hanging out with penguins in Antarctica, way too busy to entertain her drama.

In my past life, that very freshman snagged the top prize with a design that was a carbon copy of mine.

She submitted hers first, bagging the recommendation for grad school and scoring a primo gig at a leading company.

I ended up being branded a copycat, took heat from the whole school, and saw my rep go down in flames—nailed to the wall of shame forever.

I tried to set the record straight, but no one was buying what I was selling.

Ms. Freshman took to the web, waved her depression diagnosis around, and accused me of non-stop harassment post my botched plagiarism stint.

My family got dragged through the mud online, and while dodging back to our small-town hideout, my parents died in a crash.

My little sister survived but ended up being a shell of herself, stuck in a coma.

I was so broken, I took the leap.

But for the life of me, I couldn't figure out—how did she submit her design before mine when it was mine all along?

Blinking back to reality, I was back just a day before the finals.

——

"Nina, your design is freaking genius! If you don't snag first at the nationals, it's totally rigged!"

"For real, Nina's work is the bomb—innovative and practical. She's totally the blueprint for us!"

As the praise from my classmates washed over me, I snapped awake, my heart thumping like a drum solo.

Looking around at those familiar faces, a wave of emotions hit me, almost making me burst into tears.

I was back—I had a second shot at this!

My advisor peered over my design and couldn't help but nod in approval.

"Nina, nail the finishing touches. I'm betting on you to clinch this one. Do it for yourself, and do it for the school's glory too."

If I nailed this competition, I might just land a job at Prime Design Studio, the industry's top design firm.

It had always been my dream.

Watching the pride wash over my teachers' and classmates' faces, my heart sank, heavy like a rock—I was barely breathing.

It was déjà vu all over again.

I had poured my soul into this contest, convinced I had crafted the perfect entry.

But as soon as I logged on to check my ranking, I was met with a public denouncement from the organizers on their official site, slamming me for ripping off the top entry, scrubbing my scores, and booting me out of the competition.

The school quickly fell in line, issuing me a formal warning and broadcasting a school-wide reprimand.

There went my grad school prospects, and all my four-year efforts went in vain.

After the plagiarism fiasco, everywhere I turned, whether online or on campus, was just another place to face insults.

[Nina Carter, parading around as plagiarism royalty, who does she think she is?]

[Heard Nina used to be top of her class. Bet those perfect designs were all knock-offs!]

[Going all out with plagiarism at a national competition? Talk about embarrassing us!]

Those comments clung to me like a bad smell, not giving me a second of peace.

In an industry that prizes originality above all, my blatant copy-pasting had torpedoed any future career hopes.

That plagiarist tag was tattooed on me for good.

But I hadn't stolen anyone's ideas, not really.

Maybe the universe felt sorry for me and decided to throw me a bone.

I couldn't resist; I pulled out my phone and scrolled through someone's social media.

Sarah Michaels, a year below me in the same department.

She was my supposed plagiarism victim in another life.

Crowned campus beauty from day one, she had half the guys tripping over themselves to do her bidding. My guy, Steven, included.

Steven was all-in, fetching her packages and buying her lunch without fail. Come holiday time, he even whipped up gifts for her, playing her lapdog to the hilt.

I griped to Steven about his over-the-top care for Sarah, but he just brushed it off, claiming he was just being a good guy and accused me of being small-minded.

Sarah was a regular at the bottom of our class—everyone figured she was just a pretty face with no real chops.

Yet, she walked away with first place in the NADC, got her ticket to grad school, and even caught the eye of Prime Design Studio with her winning entry.

And it was her design that was an exact replica of mine.

In my past life, I dug in my heels, desperate to prove my innocence.

But Sarah went and posted her entire design process online, from initial sketches to the final details.

The kicker? Her submission timestamp was earlier than mine.

Not only did I fail to clear my name, I was hammered even harder.

Watching her pitying look, Sarah sweetly said, "Nina, I know you've always been top-notch, but this time, it looks like you copied me. You owe me an apology."

Standing right there with her, Steven chimed in loudly, "Nina, you're gross. Ripping off Sarah's work and still denying it? The proof's all there. What's your excuse now?"

Up to my last breath, it baffled me.

How could our designs be identical, right down to the minutest details?

But hey, I got a redo.

This time, I'm determined to rewrite my story!

Once everyone had left, I nervously tore up my nearly finished blueprints.

I wiped the digital versions from my computer too.

Deciding not to use that controversial design, I went back to the drawing board.

There was another plan on my home computer, not quite done, but with a few days left before the deadline, I could hustle and get it submitted.

Switching designs should dodge any drama, right?

Thinking this, I finally felt a wave of calm wash over me.